


The Winter Veil Ball

by amandaterasu



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, The Feast of Winter Veil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: Wrathion decides to slip into the Winter Veil ball at Stormwind Keep, despite being uninvited.
Relationships: Wrathion & Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44
Collections: World of Warcraft Gift Exchange 2019





	The Winter Veil Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RumseyRum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumseyRum/gifts).



> This is my submission for the WOW Gift Exchange! I did the best I could with the prompt, I hope it is enjoyable!
> 
> Happy Holidays!

No one noticed the black drake sailing over the city, momentarily blotting out the stars as he flew toward the palace. To the citizens of Stormwind, drunk on their holiday revelry, he was nothing more than a flickering shadow. 

The keep was much the same - the guards distracted checking invitations, more focused on the partygoers than what might be lurking on the rooftops. Wrathion could hear the crowd inside, with their music and laughter, and landed silently on a nearby balcony. Dinner was being served, and he could hear muted voices giving toasts, but not make out the words.

Still, it was an opportunity, and while they were distracted he shed wing and scale for silk and skin. In some ways, mortal flesh felt more familiar to him than the truth of what he was. It certainly made many things easier, especially this. He ran a hand through his hair and scratched uncomfortably at his beard. No one in this castle had seen him in years, and he hoped to pass amongst them unrecognized - for a few hours at least.

Wrathion needed to see _him,_ even if only for a few minutes, after everything that had happened.

 _”It isn’t weakness that leads to corruption,”_ Medivh had whispered to him in the empty halls of Karazhan, _”but pride. Those who believe their reason unassailable are the easiest to control. They will not question the whispers that seem to come from their own mind, in their own voice.”_

To say that the Guardian’s words had affected him would be a gross understatement. From what Wrathion knew of the man, he had been cursed from birth - a fate he himself had only been spared thanks to a certain champion. Medivh had spent his life trying to do the right thing, only for his pride and his nascent corruption to ultimately bend his works to Sargeras’s ends. It would have been a sound moral lesson in the worst of times, even if the shade he found had been a cackling demon - but instead what he had found was a tired man, eager to prevent future generations from making his mistakes. 

There had been a strange kinship between them, though Medivh had died decades before Wrathion had hatched, and the Black Prince felt as though the man had passed some mantle of responsibility onto him, much as he had to Khadgar.

The music coming from the keep changed from idle ambience to the more rhythmic type preferred for dancing, pulling Wrathion back from his spiralling thoughts. Right. Dalliance. A few glasses of wine, ease his concerns of Anduin’s state after his father’s death, then back out into the night, back to his work.

He slipped easily into the crowd around the dance floor, a dark splotch amongst the jewel-toned pageantry. Anduin was dancing with a young woman Wrathion didn’t recognize, with dark hair and tanned skin, and he clenched his jaw tightly, trying to banish the discomfort that only increased when he heard the people around him murmuring about her. She was Taelia Fordragon, Bolvar’s daughter, and my, hadn’t Bolvar and Varian been good friends? Didn’t Anduin need a queen? Wrathion considered leaving, but then the couple turned, and he saw Anduin’s face for the first time in years. 

The King looked exhausted. Not in a way any of these vapid courtiers would recognize, but his kind eyes were hollow, and the friendly smile he gave the Fordragon girl was sad. Of course, that was to be expected - King Varian had been young when he died, and the crown had been thrust upon Anduin along with the War against the Burning Legion. Only to be followed in the next breath by another war with the Horde while Azeroth Herself was dying. It couldn’t have been easy, especially for one who so longed for peace.

Wrathion glanced at the servant walking by and snatched a glass of champagne from his tray, thus missing Anduin’s own glance in his direction. 

Soon more couples took to the floor, now that their king had danced with someone, and Wrathion relaxed against the wall, content to watch. Or would have, if he had been permitted. Barely a few moments after he had slipped a small piece of salami to one of the castle cats, various ladies came up to ask him to dance, and he couldn’t very well say no to _all_ of them without drawing attention to himself.

At least that’s what he told himself, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that murmured on the dance floor he could be closer to Anduin. 

A few songs later, Wrathion turned to find Taelia Fordragon smiling up at him. She gave a polite curtsey and held out her hand. “Dance with me.” He paused for a moment, trying to tamp down the immediate urge to reject her, only for her to take his hand as her smile grew. “I want to talk to you.”

He allowed himself to be pulled back onto the floor. “Why?” His hand found her waist while she placed hers on his shoulder. At least the motions were easy.

“I know who you are.” Her words were only audible to him, lost to others amidst the opening flourishes of the minstrels. “You’re Wrathion. The Black Prince. Anduin’s told me so much about you.”

“Has he?” He didn’t know how he felt about that - was he thrilled that Anduin thought of him enough to speak of him to others? Or was he angry that Anduin cared enough about this woman to talk to her about his past?

“Yes.” Something mischievous sparkled in her eyes, and Wrathion realized she was maneuvering him through slight pressure on his shoulder, and the two of them were drifting across the dance floor, towards an open door that led out to the palace gardens.  
As the song ended, Taelia let go of him, and nodded toward someone else. Wrathion followed her gaze and saw Anduin, that tired smile on his face, holding two ceramic mugs. Without a word, the king jerked his head toward the doors and headed outside.

He did not stay in the ballroom long after that. He was too distracted by his own thoughts to see or hear Matthias Shaw turn to Genn Greymane and say, “Pay up.”

“So… Your Majesty,” Wrathion began, suddenly awkward and uncomfortable. “I hope you aren't incensed that I crashed your Winter Veil Ball.”

Anduin laughed. “I’m just glad I got to see you again! Hot chocolate?” He held out one of the mugs, and Wrathion took it, desperately trying to ignore the way their fingers brushed against each other in the process. “I’ve heard you have been travelling.” Why did these things never seem to discomfit him? “Tell me about it! What brings you to Stormwind?”

“I was in the area, investigating my father.” He glanced in the direction of Blackrock Mountain, in the distance. “And I thought I would come and offer my condolences on yours.”

“Oh,” Anduin said, and seemed to deflate a little. 

“How are you holding up, Anduin?”

The king looked down at his hot chocolate, then back toward the ballroom. After a moment, he turned, and began walking along the covered path that wrapped around the manicured garden. “It’s a lot of responsibility,” he said, when Wrathion settled into step beside him. “My father’s kingdom had plenty of problems all demanding attention.”

“Doesn’t that sound familiar,” Wrathion chuckled. “I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing these last years - tending to the responsibilities my father neglected.” He shook his head. “But I’m here to check on -”

“No,” Anduin argued. “Tell me. You don’t get to sweep in, ask about my problems, then fly off again for Light knows how many years.” He touched his arm for barely a moment, then pulled away. “I want to know.”

So Wrathion told him of the responsibilities his father had given him - for the black dragonflight and for Azeroth. “I remember a long time ago, I said I would not be held accountable for the sins of my father - but I was born with this weight, and I will carry it the rest of my life, I think. I will do what I must do.” He eyed Anduin out of the corner of his eye. “Now, tell me about what _you_ must do. That Fordragon girl seems to like you. Looking to make her a queen?” Though he’d intended to sound teasing, the voice that came out of him was bitter and disappointed.

Still, Anduin laughed. “You sound like Genn.”

“What?” That was indignance. 

“Like I’ve told him, if what I wanted was a _queen,_ I could have my pick. Letters arrive by the bushel from grasping nobility and starry-eyed maidens alike.” A new warmth crept into Anduin’s eyes, and it made something ignite in Wrathion’s chest. “I have someone specific in mind, and I’m content to wait until they’re ready.”

“If not Taelia…” Wrathion pondered. “Greymane’s daughter?”

“Tess?” Anduin laughed. “He’s pushed her forward a few times, but no, we’re just friends.”

“Lorna Crowley.”

“Light preserve us,” The king rolled his eyes. “I barely know her, and from what I hear she’s got her heart set on someone else.”

“Vanessa Van Cleef.” Wrathion chuckled.

“Are you even taking this conversation seriously?”

“Fine, fine,” he thought a moment. “An elf? It would help cement ties with the -”

“Wrathion,” Anduin’s voice was both amused and mildly frustrated. “Would you please stop talking and kiss me already?”

Whatever thoughts had been spiralling through Wrathion’s head at that moment promptly shattered on the stone at his feet. “Wha..? You…” As his mind came back to him, guilt and responsibility seemed to crowd back in. “Anduin, we _can’t._ You’re the king of Stormwind, and _High_ King of the Alliance. The people need stability! You _need_ an heir. And I -”

“You really do sound like Genn.” Anduin wasn’t laughing, this time. 

They scowled at each other for a few moments before Anduin spoke again. “Once, my father told me the hardest part of being a king was making sure you had the right person at your side. Someone who shares your goals. Someone who wants to support you through them.”

He looked away but continued. “My parents were betrothed as children, and when my mother was brought to the city as a teenager they despised each other. He thought she was too provincial and she thought he was obsessed with glory. But one day, my father said, he looked at her, and he _knew._ They might have their differences and they might find each other infuriating, but they shared the same goals, the same hopes, and no matter what happened, they would have each other. They loved each other desperately after that, for what little time they had.” The king’s smile was brittle.

“From the moment I met you,” Anduin soldiered on, “I have found you to be arrogant. Condescending. Self-important and vain. From what the Champion said of your recent travels, you’ve become a little less insufferable, thank the Light, but you are insufferable still.” Wrathion watched as Anduin’s throat bobbed with a nervous swallow. “But earlier tonight, I saw a dark shape pass the stained glass windows. I saw you sneak in from the eastern balcony. I saw you, and I _knew.”_

The silence stretched between them from uncomfortable to awkward, but before it reached painful, Anduin lifted his mug of hot chocolate to his lips, then frowned. “Oh,” he said. “It’s gone cold.” 

Wrathion reached across the gap between them and placed his hands on Anduin’s, holding them - and the mug - between his own as their eyes met. He whispered, “Allow me,” and lifted the whole bundle to his lips, blowing ever so slightly on the drink within, the tiniest curl of smoke twisting out of the side of his mouth. A heart beat later steam rose from the cup, and Wrathion smiled.

“You’re obviously useless without me, King Anduin. Can’t even finish a mug of hot chocolate before it goes cold.” The dragon shook his head. “There’s nothing for it. I’ll just have to stick around a while longer. Can’t have the whole Alliance falling apart, after all. It’d be disastrous to my plans.”

“I suppose I will need the help,” Anduin grumbled. “I made this plan with Taelia and everything and I still failed to get you to kiss me.”

“That was your first mistake,” Wrathion said. “Relying on someone who wasn’t _me.”_ He placed his hands on either side of Anduin’s face, warming the king’s cheeks, lips, and tongue with his own - kissing him until he could be sure the red in his face had nothing to do with the cold.

Far to the south, in Karazhan, the shade of Medivh leaned closer to Khadgar as they both watched the events of the Winter Veil Ball in the scrying pool. 

“Pay up.”


End file.
